


Doc Mike

by BrynTWedge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Medical Procedures, Stag Night gone wrong, depictions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 03:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17256410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/pseuds/BrynTWedge
Summary: Greg and Mike go on a fishing stag night for one of Greg's team. There's an accident, and Mike saves the day.Greg leaves even more infatuated with Mike than before.





	Doc Mike

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookjunkiecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/gifts).



> I totally took the medical scenario from Doc Martin, since I just re-watched that episode. I tweaked it a bit of course.

Greg couldn’t help but shake his head, and be glad that he’d packed some back-up dinner.

Pete, the young constable he worked with, was getting married and had asked Greg to join him on a stag-night fishing trip. He’d only said yes because the man had had such bad luck already – his best man had come down with the flu, and wasn’t able to attend. No one else could join him at the last minute, and Pete had even told Greg to invite a mate with him as incentive to come along. He’d hardly been able to say no.

That’s how he ended up sitting in the remote cabin, out in Cornwall somewhere, with Mike Stamford. He’d been shy about asking the doctor to come along, always feeling a slight flutter in his chest whenever they caught up for a match. He was honestly glad Mike had agreed, since it turned out, Mike was the main source of conversation between the three of them.

Greg tried hard not to sound like an old cynical bastard, while simultaneously avoiding mentioning anything about his subtle crush on Mike, during their conversations regarding love. There wasn’t a whole lot to do when trapped on a boat together in the middle of a lake _but_ talk, and no matter how many times Greg said to Pete that he was scaring the fish away, the young man was eager to chat. Turned out that he just wasn’t very good at it.

They hadn’t caught a single thing. There wasn’t any electricity in the cabin, a detail conveniently omitted by Pete, and so they’d built a fire and put Greg’s two frozen pizzas on it. Surprisingly, it came out quite nice.

“Full house,” Greg announced, laying his cards on the table. Mike smiled and chuckled, putting his two pair down, and Pete groaned and discarded his hand.  
“I think I’m sick of poker,” Pete bemoaned. “I haven’t won one yet.”  
“Serves you right for taking on a professional lie detector,” Mike said, elbowing Greg gently.  
“We can play a different card game?” Greg offered.  
“Nah. I’m sick of cards. I didn’t think this whole stag night through very well. I just wanted what my dad had, when he got married!”

“Yeah but lad, the lack of electricity wouldn’t have been abnormal for him,” Mike laughed.  
“Oi!” Pete pretended to look affronted, but laughed. “Yeah I’m dying without the internet.”  
“Not without your blushing bride?”  
“I’ll be spending my whole life with her soon! Man I can’t wait for that. But, I did bring the booze… who’s up for a drinking game?”

Two hours in, and Pete was pretty wobbly. He had cheered up significantly, and while Greg felt the warm buzz of alcohol in his blood, he was still fairly clear headed. Mike barely touched it… Greg wasn’t sure if the man was actually drinking or not. He didn’t want to ask, just in case it wasn’t something Mike wanted attention drawn to.

If he was honest with himself, Greg made sure to limit his consumption just in case he did something monumentally stupid with Mike in such close proximity. He valued their friendship immensely, and didn’t want to spoil it with by making a drunken pass at the man.

As Pete started singing a song, Greg let himself stare fondly at Mike’s soft features. _Oh how I want to just run my hands over him. He’s so soft looking and cuddly. I just want to pinch those cheeks and cuddle up on his belly… that’s normal, isn’t it? When you fancy someone?_

Mike caught him staring, but just gave him a warm smile and laughed with a nod to Pete, who was starting to dance as well as sing.  
_He’s so… at ease. Calm, but also not fazed by things. Just takes it all in his stride. Genuinely caring, and honest, and smart… No, Greg, focus. Don’t let him see you staring while thinking those things._

“At least he’s enjoying himself,” Mike commented quietly. “He was a bit disappointed about the lack of fish.”  
“Yeah,” Greg agreed. “The pizza was good though, in the end.”  
“Oh it was brilliant. Real woodfired pizza!”  
Greg burst out laughing. “That it was.” He swirled the beer around in his hands, wanting to talk more personally. “So, uh, you having a good time too? I was a bit worried you’d find it weird.”  
“No, no, it’s been fine.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a good thing you’re doing for the lad. And I get to spend time with you! Nothing bad about the idea at all.”

Greg beamed as he took a swig of beer. His heart sang to hear Mike enjoyed his company. _He’s just so adorable,_ Greg thought to himself. _He’s a good man, and proud of it. Doesn’t seem to care he’s single, either… as in, isn’t trying to complete himself by finding someone else. He’s fine as he is, and fuck that’s attractive. Could be just because my life seems such a mess that I find someone who has it together so appealing._

“Greg? You alright, mate?”  
Greg shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just thinking, you know. How you have it all together.” _Damn, the alcohol has loosened the tongue._ “That, er, that is, I mean y-you seem content with–”  
“It’s fine, Greg. Yeah, I guess I am. I like being a doctor, which is good, since it takes up my whole life.”  
“You get time off, though?”  
“Yeah but I don’t need to search for something fulfilling, I suppose. I’m happy to laze about and just be glad for the break and time off instead of needing to do something.”

Greg nodded and drank more of his beer. Pete had been talking earlier about thinking working for the police would be fulfilling in his life, which led Greg to say he wished there was something else in his life since while what he did gave him a sense of importance, it wasn’t entirely enjoyable and he wished he had that as well in his life.

Suddenly, Greg found himself watching Pete fall over as if it were happening in slow motion. The young man had been dancing to himself, still, when he’d tripped on a stool. He fell into the window, which smashed, and out onto the porch.

Greg leapt up into action, and Mike jumped at the same moment. Greg went for the window, but Mike went straight for the door and was outside and at Pete’s side before Greg could blink. _Damn he’s faster than he looks_.

“Pete?” Greg asked, looking over.  
“Jesus,” Mike mumbled as he pressed on Pete’s neck. “Greg, help me get him inside onto the table.”

Greg walked out and froze. There was blood everywhere. The glass had cut in various parts of Pete’s body, but it seemed most of it was covering Mike’s hand were it pressed against his neck.  
“Now, Greg.”  
“Right.” Greg shook his head and dashed in to help lift Pete’s body.

“What’s happened?” he asked, awkwardly managing to get Pete inside with Mike still holding close to the man’s neck.  
“He’s nicked his carotid artery. Call an ambulance.”

Greg fumbled for his phone and dialled, thankful that they had signal where they were in the forest. He relayed the information as Mike shouted it out to him, but was informed that it’d be half an hour before help arrived – the helicopter couldn’t land close enough to the cabin because of the trees.

“He’ll bleed out before then, or have a stroke,” Mike rumbled, gritting his teeth.  
“Fuck. Fuck… fuck fuck–”  
“Greg calm down!” Mike fixed him a stern glare. “Get me the first aid kit.”

Greg’s heart was pounding and despite being given instructions, felt overwhelmed and unable to focus. He cursed himself, knowing he dealt with difficult situations daily… but he never had to keep anyone alive – there were already dead; the pressure to act wasn’t as intense. It wasn’t the blood that was unnerving him; it was the knowledge that it was a friend who’s life was being drained away before his eyes.

He rushed to get the first aid kit, but it was only a bag with a few bandages and plasters. “Mike, t-there’s nothing here that’ll help,” he stammered, spilling the contents onto the table.  
“Right. Get the fishing bag.”

Greg opened his mouth to ask why, but Mike’s glare made him shut it and obey instantly. He pulled out the fishing bag, and opened it on the seat by the table. Pete was barely conscious, and looked deathly pale. The white skin only made the blood splattered over his face and Mike’s hands even more startling.

“Get me out the fishing line, the paring knife, and a needle. And get me the vodka over there.” Mike nodded to the seat in the corner. “And find me something to use as a clamp!”  
“What?” Greg asked, hopelessly, desperately looking about.  
“I don’t care, just do it.”

Greg nodded, panting. _Clamp, clamp, clamp… how the fuck is he so calm right now? I feel like my heart’s going to explode through my chest._  
“What are you gonna do?”  
“I have to try fix this bleed _now_ ,” Mike stressed.  
“With a fishing kit and junk?”  
“ _Greg!_ ”

 _Right_ , _clamps._ He fumbled about as he rummaged through the cabinets. Under the sink was an old tool kit, with a pair of pliers inside. “These?” he asked, holding them up.  
“Yes, fine. Get over here.”

Greg brought them over and tried not to look at Pete too much.  
“I’m going to need your help, Greg.”  
“H-how?”  
“Pour the vodka over the pliers, your hands, and then come here and press where I tell you.”  
“I-I… i-in his neck?”  
“Yes, Greg. Hurry.”

He shook his head and grabbed the bottle. He upended it and doused himself and the pliers.  
“Save some for me,” Mike instructed. Greg nodded and then came to Mike’s side.

“Right. When I say, press down right here,” Mike said, nodding to where his fingers were staunching the flow of blood. “I’ll then use the knife to access the artery, clamp it, and then you’ll have to hold the pliers tightly and steadily while I stitch the vessel.”

Greg was stunned and had to replay the information over in his head a second time. _He’s going to… what? And he said it as casually as giving directions._ “S-sure,” he said, still in shock.  
“Get the things out ready for me, Greg.”  
“Things?”  
Mike took a deep breath. “The fishing line, knife, and needle, mate.”  
“Right. H-hang on, there’s no sewing needle in here.”

Mike paused a moment, and then said, “I’ll have to use a hook then. Get one of those out. A small one.”  
Greg did as instructed and set it all out over the table by Pete’s leg. He lifted the vodka bottle and hummed, asking if he was supposed to pour the alcohol over it. Mike shook his head.  
“No, I’ll do that. Here, when I tell you, press right here.”

Greg was filled with dread, but nodded. He hovered his hand over the area, and it was shaking.  
“Greg? It’ll be fine,” Mike reassured. His steady voice was actually very reassuring. Greg nodded in response.  
“Alright, now.”

Blood spurted out as Greg tried to get his hand over the area. The moment Mike had released his hold, he moved lightning fast. He doused his hands, then grabbed the pliers and knife, and splashed alcohol on those too in the blink of an eye.  
“Right. Ready?”  
Greg made a noise, and he couldn’t tell if it was agreeing or whimpering, but Mike nodded and then drew the knife to Pete’s neck. The gash was lengthened, and Mike quickly pushed the pliers in.  
“There. Now, we’ll see if that’s stopped it. Slowly release the pressure, Greg.”

Lifting up, he waited with bated breath to see if the blood would start squirting again. Nothing came out, and he exhaled in relief.  
“Hold this. Careful now.”  
Greg nodded and took the pliers from Mike’s hand.

The doctor then grabbed the hook and line, disinfected them quickly, and started sewing Pete’s artery with deft skill. Greg stared in amazement at the calm certainty that Mike used as he worked.  
“Ok. We’ll see if that’s done it. Ease up the clamp, Greg.”

He nodded and complied. When no blood poured out, Mike sighed in relief. “Great.”  
“I-is he going to be alright?”  
“He’s stable, and should make it.”  
“Should?”  
“Nothing’s certain in emergencies, mate. But I think he’ll be fine.”

Greg stood back and stared as Mike grinned at him, moving to wash his hands. Before he could, Greg grabbed him and hugged him. He then blushed and cleared his throat, releasing him.  
“Er, sorry. That’s, uh, I–”  
“Greg, it’s fine.”  
“You saved him.”  
“Yeah.” Mike smiled again. “It’s what I do.”  
“You’re very good at it.”

“Good to hear.” Mike stood a little taller at that, and went to clean his hands.  
“I mean it. I… I hadn’t really seen you work before. It’s amazing.”  
“Thank you Greg.”

 _I felt comfortable around him before, but now I just feel… safe. How can one man be so utterly adorable and insanely capable?_ Greg willed his heart to stop pounding now that the danger had passed. Being smitten on the man of the hour wasn’t going to get him anywhere. _I’m just in awe of him_.

~

The week after the insane stag night, Greg met up with Mike for a pint.

“I’ve gotten chocolates from Pete’s fiancée and a card from him.”  
“So he’s doing well?”  
“Yeah. I don’t really have much to do with his case, since he’s not a patient of mine.”  
“Good. Good.”

Greg drank his beer. The feelings that had only gotten more intense during the incident  hadn’t abated. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it, either. People had asked him if he was alright, if he’d been traumatised by it all… but he honestly was fine. Mike’s calm and collected control of the situation stopped any panic from taking hold.

“How’s things for you?”  
Greg sneered at himself silently at the schoolgirl rush that screamed ‘ _he’s asking about me’_ , and nodded. “Yeah, fine. A murder case ongoing. Sherlock showed up to a crime scene yesterday and deduced the guilty party within thirty minutes, so it’s only been the one. His Majesty deemed the first one a four, so has left me to do it alone.”  
“Sorry to hear.”  
“No,” Greg retorted. “No I’m glad he’s not bothering to shove his nose in everything. I actually am able to do my job, you know.”

Mike reached out and grabbed Greg’s arm, completely unaware of the way it sent electricity through his body.  
“Greg, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re a good detective.”  
“Thanks. Not an amazing doctor like you though,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“We all have our talents,” Mike said gleefully with a shrug. He then sipped his lemon, lime, and bitters.  
Greg watched and dreamt he could kiss those lips. They looked so soft, like the rest of Mike. He shook his head and downed another swig of beer. _Just be glad he’s hanging out with you, Greg. Don’t go making it weird._

“So got your eye on anyone?” _Oh, well done, Greg._  
Mike looked up at him and shrugged again. “Don’t exactly have time for a love life.”  
“Don’t say that, Mike,” Greg said before he could stop himself. “Someone out there understands how important your job is, and why it takes up so much time. I mean, just any other doctor’ll get it.”  
“That is true, but honestly? I don’t really want to get involved with a doctor.”

Greg put his glass down and furrowed his brows. “Why not? If, that’s alright to ask,” he amended.  
“I mean, I shouldn’t stereotype, but most of the doctors I come across just… aren’t my type.”  
“How so?”  
“Being confident in one’s abilities is one thing, but being arrogant is another. I guess I’m someone who thinks that one can have life-saving skills as well as consider themselves just a bloke like everyone else, you know?”

Greg rubbed his arm awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t realise it was like that.”  
“Generally not with GPs, but the doctors I interact with? Yeah it does have quite the pecking-order feel to it. Still, generalising. I dunno. Just feels like I’d prefer someone with at least some differences to keep it interesting.”

He couldn’t help but feel there was more than what was being said, but kept quiet. The alcohol, however, decided that he should comment further. “You’ll have to get yourself a detective, then. We’re different but we get it.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Might, yeah,” Mike said, and Greg could swear there was a gleam in his eye.  
It was dangerous, but the mood had shifted between them slightly in the past few seconds, and so Greg decided to risk it. “Maybe I know someone,” he offered. “What’s your type?”

His heart beat loudly. _Please don’t say a woman._  
“I’m more interested in who a person is, than what they look like.”  
_Didn’t say ‘woman’… maybe…?  
_“Right. Uh,” he vocalised, unable to decide what to say next. _How about me? No, stupid, he’d not want to date me. I’m just an old divorced cynical copper, and he’s talented and kind and makes you want to cuddle him and never let go…_

“Are you alright, Greg?”  
“Fine,” he snapped quickly. “Just thinking who I could set you up with.” _Me. It’s me who I want to set you up with.  
_“Oh.” Mike sounded a little deflated. _Try not to look into that too much._ “It’s alright, Greg. I don’t really like set-ups; I’d rather know him first.”

Greg’s heart leapt and his stomach did a somersault when Mike said ‘him’. _Ask him. Ask him, you moron!  
_“I…” Greg started, and let his voice trail. Mike just looked at him patiently. “I think you’re amazing and wonderful and I want to hug you all the time and kiss you and buy you dinner,” Greg blurted out all at once. He stayed absolutely still once the words had left his mouth.

Mike looked shocked for an instant, but then chuckled. It quickly faded, and then Mike shot him a serious look. “Wait, really?”  
“Yes,” Greg said, his throat tight. _Oh lord he’s going to turn me down, what the hell have I done?_

Mike grinned, a warm, glowing smile. “I’m free now? Let’s have dinner.”  
Greg wanted to squeal in joy, but he cleared his throat a few times to make himself sound more manly and less thirteen-year-old girl. “Great. Good. Um, here?”  
“Dinner and the game? Sounds good to me.”


End file.
